


The Song

by BashfulTenrec



Series: Monkey Tries to Do Nice Things [2]
Category: The New Legends of Monkey (TV)
Genre: F/M, Friendship, Humor, I laughed a lot writing this, Monkey is doing his best, One Shot, Post-Season/Series 01, Tripkey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-05
Updated: 2018-11-05
Packaged: 2019-08-19 11:53:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16534109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BashfulTenrec/pseuds/BashfulTenrec
Summary: Monkey gets jealous of Tripitaka's interest in a traveling bard and wants to impress her with one of his songs.





	The Song

**Author's Note:**

  * For [madamwithabox](https://archiveofourown.org/users/madamwithabox/gifts).



Sandy had wanted time to catch up on her journaling. Pigsy had wanted to restock their supplies. Tripitaka just wanted a break after a particularly difficult trek across a bitterly cold mountain range. After repeated complaints, Monkey finally agreed that once they arrived at the next town, they would remain for several days to catch their breath.

When they finally arrived, the tavern was their first stop. The one thing that immediately captured Tripitaka’s attention was the well-traveled but still well put-together bard in the corner of the tavern, tuning his pipa and softly rehearsing his songs. The man looked to be the same age as Monkey, but taller, leaner, and wore expertly maintained stubble on his face that complimented his already handsome features. He glanced around the room and his kind eyes lit on hers and he paused to dip his head into a respectful nod with a warm smile. Being mistaken for a holy man had its perks, she thought as she gave him a shy smile and a tiny wave back.

“Hey.” Monkey poked her arm. “Did you hear anything I just said?”

“Hmm?” She tore her eyes away from the bard to Monkey.

He jerked his chin to indicate the bard, his critical brown eyes appraising him. “What’s so special about him?” His head cocked to the side, frowning when she smiled a little and looked back at the bard for a second.

“Growing up with the Scholar…” She was nostalgic. “I never really saw much of taverns or bards, just read about them. Then I started to work in Monica’s tavern after…” her voice choked at the memory of staring into the Scholar’s sightless eyes, but she continued. “It wasn’t…. Awful. But there was a bard that would occasionally come in and perform, someone other than the local musicians. His voice would make the worst nights better. It’s like magic, people who can sing.”

Monkey sniffed as he looked thoughtful. He looked like he was about to say something, but the bard took to the stage and announced his arrival with a jaunty strum of his pipa. Tripitaka muttered a hasty ‘excuse me’ and went to go sit closer.

“I am Aiden the traveling songsmith,” the bard declared, eyes sparkling with an easy charisma as he captured the attention of everyone in the room. His gaze lit on Tripitaka again, looking pleased that she had deigned to move closer. “And I am honored to play for you tonight.” His voice carried to every corner of the room, but Tripitaka felt like he was speaking just to her.

Aiden opened with an upbeat folk song she had heard several times from Pallawa, but he performed it in such a way he made sound like he composed it himself. His easy grace and practiced movements reminded Tripitaka of Monkey when he was in his element training his combat moves. The crowd eagerly joined their clumsy voices with him into a swell and Tripitaka hummed along, admiring how the bard played the crowd as effortlessly as his instrument and voice. When he finished, he set aside his pipa and waited for quiet.

“And now, for a very old song. It’s been around for hundreds of years, and has become a classic. If you’ll permit me-” he smiled as the crowd cheered. “I’ve found it takes on a deeper meaning without distractions from instruments.”  

He took a deep breath and began to sing. His voice washed over Tripitaka, filling the room but sending shivers down her spine. It felt like a warm hug, comforting with his sweet notes and gentle words. It was a tender ballad that was one of her favorites, and she idly wondered if she’d ever find a sort of love like the song described, considering the sort of journey she was undertaking. She shook off the existential dread and berated herself for getting distracted during such a performance.

The applause for the ballad was deafening, and Aiden bowed before picking up his instrument again. The night continued until Aiden asked for song suggestions he hadn’t already sang, able to accommodate almost all of the requests, even the more obscure tunes. He finally gestured to Tripitaka, singling her out again.

“Does our young monk have any requests?” he asked with another smile. Tripitaka felt nervous to even ask for it.

“The ballad where you sang alone, without your instrument. It was lovely,” she finally said quietly. “I’d love to hear it again.” The crowd sounded their assent, and his smile broadened.

“But of course! A perfect way to close the night!”

As he began the song once again, Tripitaka shut out all other distractions from her mind, taking care to drink in every word and note to commit this moment to memory.

\---

Monkey was distracted as he bid Tripitaka goodnight but temporarily snapped out of his brooding to carefully watch Tripitaka ascend the stairs to make sure she arrived safely to her room once the crowd dispersed. He scowled at the stage as he remembered how Aiden the traveling songsmith specifically addressed her in front of everyone. Tripitaka never liked that sort of attention. She had shyly withdrawn into herself as expected, but still went through with her request for the allegedly very old song. Monkey hadn’t recognized it whatsoever. Yet another thing he had missed during his centuries trapped in the rock. But even from across the room he had seen her be captivated by that song, her small frame leaning too close to take in every moment and listen to the man’s voice and watch his face for far too long. At the very least the bard was under the impression Tripitaka was a monk, so his interest in her was probably superficial since monks are off limits. Probably.

Why was he getting so riled up about this?

He thought back to Tripitaka’s wistful remark from before the bard had begun to perform. Singing, to Tripitaka at least, is like magic. Magic that made her both smile and sway as well as go utterly still with awe. He could do magic. Granted he had never bothered to do something as silly as sing, and his own magic wasn’t exactly reliable these days, but he could do it if he wanted.

Well, he had never wanted to prior to tonight. After all, demons didn’t care if a song was being sung while they were being killed. But envy scorched his heart once again at Aiden’s ability to so easily steal Tripitaka’s attention, even before he had begun to sing his songs with his admittedly nice sounding voice.

“If you glare at the bard any harder he might catch on fire,” Pigsy commented, striding up to Monkey. “What’s your problem? He was probably the best bard I’ve ever heard, even for a human.”

“Tripitaka wouldn’t leave to go travel with someone else, right?” Monkey demanded, the question tumbling out of his mouth before he could stop it.

Pigsy squinted at him. “You’re an idiot and I’m going to bed. You should too.”

Monkey’s nose twitched but let him leave without another word. Taking a cursory glance around, Monkey prowled over to the stage. "You there. Bard."

The bard glanced up at him.

Monkey inclined his head at him. “I am the Monkey King. And I require your services.”

"I'm finished performing for the night, good sir,” Aiden said politely. His tone wasn’t nearly reverent enough for Monkey’s taste. “I will be in town tomorrow though."

Monkey waved him off. "I don't want a song for me. I want one for my..." He hesitated. "For my friend. Not right now though."

The bard's face lit up in a knowing smile. "I see. And who is the lucky recipient?" 

Monkey gestured to where Tripitaka had sat. "Your biggest fan tonight."

Aiden looked puzzled. "Sir, surely you are aware that monks are bound by certain vows he cannot break, even for gods? He wouldn't..." 

"Don't worry about that,” Monkey interrupted. “In fact..." He puffed himself up. "I want you to teach me." At Aiden’s skeptical look, Monkey sighed and pulled off one of his many bracelets on his arm and held it out. "I can pay for the lessons, bard. I'm not trying to steal your business; I just want to do something special for my friend."

Aiden slowly took the bracelet, turning it over in his hands, calloused from years of dedication to perfecting his craft, before examining Monkey. “Very well. Tomorrow at dawn, meet me in the copse of trees outside the town gates and we’ll begin your lessons.”

\---

“So what song were you wanting to perform?” Aiden asked as he sat down on a stump.

“The one you sang twice,” Monkey answered, twirling his hairpin around his fingers. That was the one that Tripitaka liked the most, considering she specifically asked for its encore.

Aiden’s brow furrowed.

"This isn't a song that you would sing to a friend, much less a monk."

"It can be interpreted platonically," Monkey fired back hotly. 

""My one fervent plea is to be set adrift the ocean of your eyes?"" Aiden quoted dubiously. 

"The monk has lovely eyes," Monkey replied after a pause. "Surely you noticed the other night."

The bard’s mouth worked before nodding as he recalled Tripitaka's features, but then his face returned to a frown. "There are other songs composed for your kind of companionship. When friends travel together they... Don't... Say these things to each other." He sounded like he couldn't believe he had to explain this.

Monkey sniffed. In truth he had considered just telling Aiden everything just to save time arguing with him, but Tripitaka's secret about not being a monk wasn't his to reveal. Finally he muttered "Well then you're not doing it right."

The bard’s eyes shut as it finally dawned on him that Monkey was never going to back down on the matter and he pinched the bridge of his nose, defeated. 

"Very well... I cannot be held responsible for any sour feelings afterwards. Sing it for me, then." He arranged his hands in his lap and waited.

Monkey cleared his throat, a thrill of nerves gripping him at the prospect of actually singing for another person. He shifted his stance, tapped his chest, and began to sing.

The first notes were rough, he freely admitted to himself, but he felt he had done a decent job of replicating the sounds Aiden had created that night. He finished the remainder of the song rather well, stumbling over only a couple of words and pitches along the way. For a first time singer, he totally killed it. Singing wasn't hard at all. He didn't see what the big deal was. 

When he had finished, he took a deep breath and glanced at Aiden, who had his face composed carefully to not betray any emotion. He was probably jealous of Monkey’s godlike aptitude for a craft he had been practicing his entire short, mortal life.

"Well? How was that?" Monkey bounced on his toes eagerly.

Aiden smoothed a crease on his trousers. "How many times have you heard that song, my friend?" His tone was light, and he had a thin smile on his face that didn't reach his eyes.

"Twice," Monkey replied. "You sang it both times."

Aiden was impressed. "For someone that has only heard the song twice you know the words almost perfectly. I can write down the words for you, if you'd like."

"That won't be necessary," Monkey said swiftly. He had a fantastic memory, in part from the nature of being a god, but mostly out of necessity since he lacked any ability to read. "So any pointers for me?" 

The bard's eyes darted around Monkey for a split second. Monkey was familiar with that look. It usually happened when his opponents were afraid and looking for any means to escape.

"Tell me, how much time do you have before you wish to perform?" Aiden asked delicately.

Monkey shrugged. “A couple of days maybe?”

"And there is no way to convince you to allow me to do this task for you?" The bard's voice had gone flat.

"Nope," Monkey replied cheerfully.

The bard heaved a sigh. "Then I'm going to need more payments to continue."

"Fine, fine," Monkey grumbled. "But how was it?" 

“Well, um. The… amount of sound you produce is definitely not an issue. Perhaps if you’re serenading one person as planned you could consider not shouting the words,” Aiden suggested lightly. “Sometimes less is more.”

Monkey shrugged. He could do that. He gestured for Aiden to continue his critique, who winced.

The bard looked skyward in supplication, then finally back to Monkey. "Please don't take this the wrong way, Monkey King. But I don't think the musical arts is in your skill set."

"I sang the words," Monkey replied, tilting his head. 

"To be frank, that could barely be considered singing. Your tempo is… erratic. It’s like you based the timing of your notes on whatever you were thinking at the time.”

Monkey shrugged again. Wasn’t his fault he had a lot on his mind.

Aiden went on, “I detected only a few times you hit the correct pitch, and that was probably down to luck. You're completely tone deaf. But perhaps it would improve if I accompanied you with my instrument," he added hastily when Monkey bristled. He grabbed his pipa and gestured to Monkey. “Try it again.”

The second time, according to Aiden, sounded even worse than the first. The third rendition wasn’t an improvement either, even upon ditching the pipa and periodically stopping for Aiden’s coaching. Monkey glared at Aiden, who had his head in his hands.

“Perhaps you have an uncanny talent for the discord,” Aiden mused. He glanced up at Monkey, looking genuinely perplexed. “There is a certain beauty in senseless chaos, after all.”

“You’re the one who’s messing me up,” Monkey muttered under his breath, although he was torn between being offended and adopting the description for himself.

Aiden exhaled slowly, looking deep in thought as he tapped his fingers in a staccato beat.

“Your voice,” Aiden said in a measured tone, “Much like my pipa here, is an instrument. You can, with enough time and practice, train yourself to use it properly. Considering you, as a god, have an eternity to spare, it’s entirely feasible you could eventually pass as an… average singer.”

“And how long will that take?” Monkey asked eagerly, anger forgotten. Maybe he could do this after all.

“Probably longer than your monk’s natural lifespan,” Aiden replied bluntly.

Monkey pinned him down with a fresh glare, although on the inside he felt a bright bolt of triumphant, childish glee from Aiden’s phrasing of “your monk”. Tripitaka was Monkey’s little human as long as she would have him. No question.

Aiden threw his hands up in defeat. “Fine, fine. I can give you pointers on how to better control your voice and how to articulate the words themselves, which will help. To a degree. But you can barely distinguish between two completely different notes. That’s something I can’t teach you in a few days.”

Monkey cracked his knuckles as well as his best cheeky grin. “Well then we best get started.”

\---

After spending the rest of the morning and most of the afternoon with the bard, Monkey could tell his progress was marginal at best, but Aiden said to give it a rest for today.

“You’re better than this morning,” Aiden admitted. “Although that’s not saying much. My grandmother, who has been dead for fifteen years, has a better voice than you.”

If it weren’t for the fact he was teaching him, Monkey would have delivered all three Son combinations right to Aiden’s smug face.

“I’m going back. I have to prepare for this evening’s performance. We can resume the lessons tomorrow morning, if you’re willing to continue and pay. Speaking of which…”

Monkey rolled his eyes and held out another bracelet. Aiden nodded at him with a genuine smile this time, and headed back. Monkey pulled out his staff and slashed a tree, the bark groaning until it split and toppled fully over with a crash. Maybe some training in something he was actually skilled at would clear his head.

“I don’t think the tree was offended by your lackluster performance,” a breezy voice behind him said. Monkey whipped around to see Sandy reclining against a boulder not too far away.

“How long have you been sitting there?” He shrank his staff and tucked it away. Sandy thought for a while.

“Can you tell me why you’re doing this?” she offered instead, a coy smile on her face.

Monkey frowned. “That doesn’t answer my question.”

She jumped to her feet and glided towards him. “You’re interested in Tripitaka.” She nodded to herself, satisfied. “But why a song? Why would you go to all this trouble to do something you aren’t good at? You hate doing things you’re not good at.”

“I’m not interested in her that way,” Monkey spluttered, growing uncomfortably warm.

“Liar.” Sandy left no room for argument as she pulled out her notebook and flipped through it, peering at a darkly scowling Monkey several times as she skimmed through her scrawlings. “Now, I’m no expert in these matters, but Pigsy seems to be. I have recorded several instances of when he got a particular look on his face when he observes you around Tripitaka-”

Monkey abruptly turned and stomped back to the town gates, not wanting to dignify that with a retort.

“There are other ways to declare affection,” Sandy called after him. “There’s poetry. I have some ready to go, if you’d like. Reciting poetry is like singing but even you could do it.”

\---

Monkey managed to make it through Aiden’s evening performance without setting him on fire. Aiden had repeatedly made deliberate eye contact with Monkey, as if to demonstrate through his own performance what level Monkey should be at in order to win Tripitaka’s admiration. Although, he was pleased to note, that Aiden paid significantly less attention to her tonight, save for passing nods of respect.

“Seriously, what is your problem?” Pigsy wondered with a frown when the performance had concluded. “Aiden’s not a bad guy. In fact, before he came inside, I caught a glimpse him singing a lullaby to a crying child.”

Monkey glowered, feeling even more inadequate. Tripitaka had once again ditched him to sit closer to the bard to be enraptured by his songs, missing his silent invitation to sit next to him, leaving a sour taste in his mouth and smoldering ashes in his stomach.

“She always sits by me,” he muttered, hoping Pigsy wouldn’t think too much of his fumbled half-truth.

Pigsy rolled his eyes. “You could’ve gone up to sit by her instead of pouting in the back row, you moron. Besides, it’s not like anyone is going to cause any danger to her here, and if they did? We deal with them. She doesn’t have to constantly be within arm’s reach.”

No, but it’s what he would prefer. At least with Aiden around, that is. Besides, he couldn’t go up to the front row. Not where Aiden could easily gloat at him and lord his skill over his head. Monkey sighed, knowing full well the bard probably wouldn’t do that. Finding flimsy reasons to hate the actually decent human being was tiring. He waited until Tripitaka bid him goodnight and retired to his own room to wait out the morning.

\---

After hours of more fruitless rehearsal, Aiden looked at Monkey in utter defeat.

“I honestly can’t decide if you’re deliberately being awful for some prank only gods deem amusing or if the universe named you to be the worst possible singer in all history.”

“I’m trying,” Monkey snarled. “Why isn’t this working?”

“I have been in this profession ever since I could speak. I don't think lessons can help you.” Aiden looked at Monkey imploringly. “It would be far easier, for all of us, and cheaper for you, if I just sang the song and dedicated it to him."

Monkey stubbornly shook his head.

Aiden sighed. “Then I regret to say I cannot help you any further. In truth I should’ve departed for my next engagement hours ago, but have remained out of morbid curiosity for your undertaking.”

Monkey wasn’t sure how he felt about that. Aiden rose from his spot on the stump.

“Monkey King…” Aiden began, shouldering his pack. “There are just some things even gods cannot do. But I will give you credit where it is due; where you lack in talent and any sort of vocal control or pitch detection, you far excel in stubborn pride and zeal. Your monk companion does not know how fortunate he is to have you at his side. I wish you the best of luck in this and all of your future endeavors, my friend.”

Monkey pulled yet another bracelet from his arm and offered it to Aiden. “I hope we meet up on the road again.” He surprised himself at his own sincerity.

Aiden smiled and shook his head at Monkey’s offering. “Keep it. Do tell me how your performance went, should we cross paths once more.”

\---

Pigsy was waiting for Monkey at the town gates, and as soon as Monkey passed him he seized the scruff of Monkey’s neck and hauled him back.

"Sandy told me what you've been up to. And now, more unfortunately, I've also heard what you've been up to."

Monkey huffed and shrugged him off. "And?" 

"And?" Pigsy replied, incredulous. "And? Monkey. You're being an idiot. More so than usual. You can't sing your way through an open door."

"And that's what the lessons were for," Monkey said slowly, his patience wearing thin. His fists balled up before he forced himself to relax, his curiosity besting him. “So from what you heard, what did you think?”

“Well I think you killed it,” Pigsy replied, suddenly cheerful.

Monkey blinked. “Really?”

"Absolutely not. The only thing you killed was my hearing. As one of Tripitaka's protectors I'm asking you, from the bottom of my heart, to refrain from going through with this. What the hell were you even thinking, anyway?"

Monkey frowned. “I just wanted to do something nice,” he muttered.

"To reiterate," Pigsy growled, "What. The hell. If you really want to impress Tripitaka singing isn't the route to take."

Monkey shouldered Pigsy aside and stalked back to the tavern. He wasn’t doing it to impress Tripitaka; these past couple of days killed any delusion that she would be impressed by anything he could do in a musical sense. In truth he wasn’t sure why he was doing it, or what he was hoping to gain. Maybe if he could just get a tiny glimpse of that look on her face again when she was listening to this song, it would all be worth it.

\---

At this point of their journey Tripitaka had learned to take everything the three gods said and did in stride, especially Monkey. So she didn't think too much about accepting his request to join him outside to practically drag her into a stand of trees just beyond the town, although she was wondering why he was acting like he wanted to crawl out of his own skin. He normally moved with a confident cat-like grace, even when he was prancing around with a vivacity that made her tired just watching him. But now, although he was trying his best to act normally, she could tell his entire body was tense and coiled with a nervous energy she hadn’t seen on him before.

She noted that the top of the stump he had sat her down on was scorched, almost as if Monkey had slashed it with his staff. He had been spending a lot of time away lately. Maybe he was going to show off a reclaimed power of his, but why was he so nervous? And why didn’t he demand a larger audience to show off to if this was the case? It was quite strange, even by her now skewed standards.

Monkey paced in front of her, looking all around her but never at her directly. “Right. So uh. Here goes.”

\---

If it wasn’t for her promise to never use it on him again, Tripitaka definitely would’ve used the crown sutra just to make him stop those awful sounds he was somehow creating. The words of the song were recognizable to her as the unmistakably romantic ballad from the other night, but that was where the similarities ended. Where the bard’s rendition was a warm and lilting tune, performed with both precision and the utmost care, Monkey’s was… well. It was something. Her head pounded and it took all her willpower to not cringe at particularly sour notes or get irritated at the haphazard pacing.

When his poor attempt at a serenade mercifully came to an end, Tripitaka was at a loss for what to say. She rose to her feet, wondering if there was a way to surreptitiously massage her aching temples. Monkey was restless again, searching her face for a reaction. The longer the silence stretched between them, the more downcast his eyes became, filling her with pity.

“I didn’t know you sang,” she said, realizing she had to say something. She wished her tone had softened the blow a little more, but Monkey seemed relieved at her response, shoulders slumping ever so slightly.

"I got lessons from the bard."

Tripitaka was impressed that Aiden survived multiple renditions of the song considering the magnitude of her headache now, although it was quickly fading. She couldn’t imagine how bad the first attempts had been. "You learned that song just for me?" 

He nodded, his foot playing with a clump of dirt. 

“I'm not going to lie, it was not... Great. Monkey, it wasn't even close to being good. It was bad.”

Monkey winced. Tripitaka half expected him to summon his cloud and never return. It’s what she would want to do if their situations were reversed. Then again she would never perform in front of anyone knowing she was terrible at singing, so for that she had to admire his bravery. But his feet remained rooted to the ground and he remained still, except for his darting eyes staring at the grass. Tripitaka had to admit that he had certainly put forth an effort, and it flattered her he would pursue such an undertaking for a thing other than fighting demons. She reached up and made him meet her eyes. "Bad, but quite precious. So thank you, Monkey." His downcast eyes reignited with their usual spark of confidence and elation. "Just please don't ever do that again."

He swiftly nodded, a sheepish grin on his face.

Tripitaka was curious. “So why go to all the trouble? Did Aiden’s performance inspire you?”

Monkey shuffled and he fixed the ground with a glare, mumbling he didn’t like something.

“Come again?”

He straightened and looked at her directly. “You were just really interested in the bard. Bard’s songs,” he corrected swiftly. “I wanted to try it.”

Tripitaka saw right through him. “Monkey. Were you jealous of Aiden’s singing? Seriously?”

Monkey scoffed. “I believe the word you’re looking for is envy, which is wanting something someone else has. Jealousy is when you’re afraid to lose something to someone else. Besides, being envious of a human’s singing voice? Me? Not a chance. I’m a god, Tripitaka. Envy isn’t a good look on me.”

Tripitaka didn’t need Sandy’s penchant for detecting falsehood to be able to sense he wasn’t telling the entire truth, especially since he was being a stickler for semantics. She recalled that night that Aiden performed, and the curious, brief image of Monkey sulking when she left to go sit closer to the stage came to mind. He hadn’t been envious of Aiden’s singing ability at all, she realized. It was jealousy, but not for what she originally thought.

She paused, feeling emboldened. “Did… did you mean what you were singing?”

Monkey froze. “It… was the song you liked the most from that night,” he hedged, shoulder jerking into a half-hearted shrug.

Tripitaka didn’t know why, but she felt a little disappointed at this. He noticed, eyes darting around.

“That is to say, yes. Yes I did mean it. The words, that is. Unless you didn’t want me to mean it. Then I didn’t.” He cringed hard, and Tripitaka couldn’t help but smile at how flustered he was.

She reached over and took his hand, tugging him in the direction of the town. “Shall we go back then?”

His mouth parted, and his wide eyes flicked between her face and her hand like he couldn’t believe she had deemed him worthy of it. His mouth closed and he swallowed hard before nodding, silently lacing his fingers with hers.

Tripitaka filled the short walk back with one sided discussion on her idea for travel time for the next leg of the journey, despite knowing these things rarely go to plan. Monkey was unusually quiet, as if the entirety of his mind’s processing power was fully occupied with their shared point of contact, but he would respond appropriately when prompted. Upon arriving and meeting up with a ready-to-depart Sandy and Pigsy, Tripitaka released Monkey’s hand to go get her things. However, she didn’t miss Pigsy begrudgingly passing Sandy a pouch of what sounded unmistakably like coins.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, thank you so much madamwithabox for being a fantastic editor and motivator! I hope you enjoy this little offering!
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks for reading! I love your comments!


End file.
